Three days later, the three of them gathered in Metheea's chambers. The morning light spilled across the carpets, catching on the small trays of fruit that lay untouched between them.
Kalistra leaned back on her cushion, her voice casual. "The regent attendant delivered a message for tonight's tutoring, Princess."
Resme's head tilted, her brow arching. "Tutoring? By the Regent?"
Metheea's lips parted. She had not realized until then that they had never once spoken of those lessons in Resme's presence.
"Strange. Why is it that the head lady-in-waiting is the last to know?" Resme's smile was faint, but her tone sharpened.
Metheea caught the displeasure that flickered in her eyes, the way the words edged with accusation more than curiosity.
"Perhaps because you have not been around much for the preparation of your ball."
Resme's eyes narrowed slightly, though her expression smoothed when Kalistra spoke again, breaking the tension.
